


The Brillance of a Tender Mechanism

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: Regaining Ground [2]
Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-07
Updated: 2008-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A string of murders sends everyone reeling. Everyone questions matters of repentance and the right to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Brillance of a Tender Mechanism

The new house rose from the hill in a jigsaw of logs and glass. The blueprints were pinned to a thick board under a canopy. They were signed with a flourish by the Queen's chief advisor. Signs of industry littered the open sunny spot, lumber piled here, tools scattered there. And in and among the grass: a pair of pants, a lovely lavender blouse and several shoes.

Two pairs of eyes were trained up at the clouds.

"Why?"

The question hung between them without resolution for a long time. It had lingered, trembling, in the air since the first letter had passed between them.

Jeb turned slowly onto his stomach, propping his head up on a fist.

"Do you think I shouldn't?"

"You've spent your life fighting against me. I said things...did horrible things. Your father...even Ambrose. They should hate me. You all should. I tore up the world from one end to the next without a care. I wanted to destroy everything. Every last piece of good and light and happiness."

He stroked her dark hair and kissed her once.

"That wasn't you. You were possessed."

"But they're still my memories. It's still who I was."

"Do you want to destroy anything about today?"

She sat up slowly and looked about her.

"It was a good day."

Turning, she took him in her arms, but he didn't forget that she hadn't really answered.

~*~

"That was officially the most boring thing that has ever happened to me." Ambrose stretched backwards until he was bent nearly in half.

"I thought he made several interesting points." Wyatt looked piously down at him.

"You must be referring to the little clown that lives in your dreams because you were sleeping the whole time."

"Why did we have to go to this, anyway?"

"The Queen wants to know what the young minds of the O.Z. are learning."

"And we learned?"

"They've definitely developed an immunity to terminal boredom. Some of them were taking notes."

The marbled walkways of the Central City University finally spat them out into the bright light of day leaving them both squinting.

"Come on, I'll take you out to lunch."

"You don't have to go back to work?"

Wyatt frowned.

"I told you, I cleared my schedule for the day."

Ambrose took his hand without saying another word and they walked on in silence. The disturbing murders of prominent citizens had sent a wave of panic through the entire city. The newspapers were calling for more action from law enforcement. It was the first time as chief of police that Wyatt was heavily criticized on all sides. Despite nearly round the clock work, there were no leads. Frustrated and exhausted past reason, he had barely made it to his own bed for a few hours of sleep at odd hours before leaving again.

They sat in a small cafe, mostly ignoring the stares and whispers that followed them everywhere they went. The perils of fame were somewhat mitigated by their fearful reputation.

"How should we spend the afternoon?" The chair tilted backwards, the boneless sprawl threatening to send the Queen's right hand spilling across the floor.

"At home. Preferably in bed."

"Sleeping?"

"That too."

The chair rocked slowly forward, all four legs returning to earth.

"Why didn't you say so sooner? We could skip lunch."

"Because I'm hungry."

"You're an evil, evil man."

"Patience." Wyatt turned his attention to their arriving food with interest.

"Sir! SIR!" A uniformed tinman ran into the restaurant at full speed. "You must come immediately. There's been another killing!"

To his credit, the chief of police did not so much as flinch. He rose from the table squeezed his companion's shoulder with a muttered apology and left behind the rattled crowd with a sweep of his long jacket.

Everyone turned to look at Ambrose. He stared morosely down at his plate, pushed his food away, put several bills on the table and stalked back to the palace. All his assistants were far too clever to get accidentally in his way until his frustration had drained well away.

~*~

The sisters sat on matched thrones in a room of pink-veined marble. Citizens from around the O.Z. lined the room to plead their case to the fair hands of justice. It was a perfect picture of justice and mercy.

"This is the last time." D.G. whispered between cases. "I promise.'

"Mother will just have to hire someone to do this." Azkadelliah maintained her perfect benevolent smile. She knew even the slightest slip would send a shudder of horror and suspicion through the crowd.

Forgiveness was a slippery thing and once given could still be easily revoked.

"Are you sure Jeb is all right with me joining the two of you? I feel pretty third wheelish."

"Wheelish isn't a word. And he is fine with it. We all need a new beginning."

D.G. studied her, only half-listening to the next round of arguments. Worry began to bubble in her gut. Azkadelliah could never regain her former happy child-self. These days D.G. was forced to wonder if her sister could find any sense of her true self at all.

~*~

The body lay contorted in the foyer. The stab wounds suggested the same serrated blade used in the other five murders. An iron medallion with a closed eye lay over the victim's chest. No known gangs, religions or secret societies laid claim to such a symbol. Every body had been found with one

Swarms of tinmen, medical examiners and mechanicals swarmed the site. Wyatt watched it from a distance, unbelievably tired. He had been over the whole scene himself before the army had come in. They had the same amount of evidence as before.

Whoever was killing these men and women knew them. In each case the killer was invited in, given something to eat and walked to the door. Countless servants had testified to that effect. Yet, none of them had seen this mysterious visitor. They had all been sent out of sight before the bell rang, ordered ahead of time to lay a meal. It was only hours later when the body was cold that they would emerge finding their masters dead. No fingerprints, no hairs, not even a trace lipstick on the empty wineglasses remained.

"Sir?"

"What is it Dirken?"

"I was looking over the paperwork again and I think I may have found a connection."

"Aside from wealth and active interest in the revitalization of the O.Z. as a whole and Central City in particular?"

"You noticed then."

"Bank accounts came through yesterday, I got them right before you. Good eye though."

"Every one of them donated over two million to various causes over the last three annuals. Most of them started two days after the eclipse."

"Guilt money."

Dirken blinked at him.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Every last one of them helped the Witch. Our killer is taking revenge."

~*~

They tucked both princesses safely away first. D.G. went kicking and screaming the whole way until Ambrose took her aside. Her sister took it with the same quiet resignation she took nearly everything.

"It's a matter of sanity." Azkadelliah had told them over tea, the day before she left. "I can accept that I will always in some small part be hated or I can spend my every waking hour trying to change the minds of stubborn men. You two were hard enough."

"I never hated you." Ambrose said hurridly. "Not the real you."

It was Wyatt, never having met the real Azkadelliah, who understood better.

"You've got to remake yourself in your own image. Some people never will see past the skin, but its you that you've got to please in the end."

The Queen came to say goodbye to her daughters. She hugged D.G. tightly to her until the girl had to fight her way free. When she broke away and gazed at Azkadelliah, emotions warred over her face. The princess shook her head and looked away, eyes fixed on the horizon.

The caravan would take them to Jeb's homestead nearly a year ahead of schedule. Their safety was guaranteed there. No one outside of the Queen, Wyatt, Ambrose, Raw and Ahamo knew of the promise of new life burgeoning in the hills.

"I regret many things." The Queen said quietly as the car retreated. "Nothing so much as not being able to love her again as I once did."

"Your Majesty..."

"No, Ambrose. Thank you. I will be in my chambers." She retreated.

"Watch her carefully."

"That has been my job for years uncounted." Ambrose touched at his scar, running his hand along it.

"I have to go."

"Of course."

Wyatt took the rubbing hand and turned it palm up. He traced a few of the odd shaped calluses.

"What are you working on?"

"Something entirely good."

Carefully, he released the hand and brushed a kiss over Ambrose's forehead.

"Missed that sunny optimism. Good luck with it."

~*~

The windmill jostled to life and D.G. smiled in satisfaction. Already the half-finished house had taken on a humming life. With her mechanical skills and Jeb's passion for the project, they might finish ahead of schedule.

"Az, could you hand me the wrench?"

The cool metal handle slid into her hand and she made few minor adjustments.

"It's more beautiful every time I come here."

"It is kinda idyllic."

They sat back and Azkadelliah handed her a crudely made sandwich. She was serving as camp cook with some success.

"I don't want to go back. To the city. Ever." Her voice went hard.

"Oh." D.G. swallowed. "Well, ok. What about you know...everything? It's lonely out here."

"Not for me. I have you, Jeb. Ambrose and Wyatt will visit. Maybe a child one day. That's good. That's enough. I can make a life from that." She was shaking. "There's so much rage D. I can feel it just under my skin always waiting. I feel quieter here."

"Hey! Hey. It's good here. You don't have to go back."

"You promise?"

D.G. pulled her close. She thought about what Ambrose had told her. She had to be the big sister now.

"I promise."

~*~

The office was dark. Wyatt laid his head on the back of his chair and prayed for a moment of sleep. There were now too many suspects. Hundreds of Central City's citizens had every reason to hate those that had supported the evil witch. The suspect needed to have access to the homes of the rich. That should have limited it down a great deal. Unfortunately, given the covert nature of the visits; it could have been the cheapest of blackmailers to the wealthiest heiress.

What he wanted was home. What he wanted was a long dark, dreamless sleep. In the morning, he wanted to draw Ambrose to him and remind him of all the things they left unsaid. Maybe even say a few of those things.

Two years of peace. Two years to plan, to plot and to let anger fester. Their suspect was patient, clever and angry. They had established themselves with rich families they despised and took their revenge without ever losing their head.

A knock came to the door and Dirken stuck his head into the dark room.

"Sir?"

"If it's another murder..."

"Yes, sir. But this one doesn't fit the pattern. It may just be a copycat..."

"Doesn't fit how?" He was already on his feet, holstering his gun and grabbing up his notes.

"The victim was a hobo, sir. On his way from here to there."

"Any identification?"

"Well, everyone knows him, sir. Threefold Treefold. He's the best vehicle mechanic from here to the Other Side. Unfortunately, he's always had a problem with drink and well...you get your wheels fixed when he comes through if you're lucky."

"What does he have to do with Azkadellliah?"

"That's just it, sir. Nothing. If anything, he was one of the strongest links in the rebellion. Carried messages everywhere."

"The double triple T." He intoned. The messages had arrived without the messenger, carried by arrow or well trained pigeon. Only the grouping of Ts signaled the one who risked so much to convey it.

"The murder weapon is definitely the same and the medallion was found clutched in his hand. The body was left in an alley. Copy cat? A bad one?"

"Let's go find out."

~*~

The kitchen had acquired a roof. The wind still blew through one unfinished wall, leaving the pleasant room slightly uncomfortable. Azkadelliah made up for the winds by baking bread every day, keeping the ovens hot and the smell of industry fresh in the air.

She sensed before she heard the assassin. Her hands were wrist deep in spongy dough and a smile had only seconds before lingered on her lips. The hairs on the back of her neck raised and the tips of her fingers began to itch. Whether it was magic or years of fine tuned to suspicion, the early warning saved her life.

The knife arched and stabbed into the dough. She was already halfway across the room, crouched into a defensive position. The assassin wore dark green mask, uniform, gloves and boots. Frightened, but far from defenseless, Azkadelliah reached into the still place inside of her. The light spilled through her and she reached out with phantom hands to choke the life from her would be killer. The green clad assassin started to cough and sputter. All the old joy of power rose in her, threatening her fragile hold and turning her magic to the ominous grey of a thunderstorm.

No. NO! She would not fail. Would not let that bitch win when she was only so much slag on a far off balcony. A sob shuddered through her and she released her phantom hands.

"Go ahead. Kill me." She cried. "I won't kill you."

Shaken, the assassin came towards her, knife ascending into the air once more. A sharp CLANG! pierced the air.

D.G. stood, a frying pan held securely in both hand.

"No one hurts my sister, you son of a lying pig whore."

For good measure, she kicked him hard in the stomach.

~*~

"You seem very lost in your thoughts today." The Queen looked at her dining partner with soft concern.

"Too much on my mind." Ambrose gave her a wane smile. "Please, go on about the gardens. Flowers are quite soothing."

"Oh, you don't give two sticks for the garden." She laughed. "Except for maybe the covert irrigation inventions you have operating among my herbs."

"And they've thrived admirably." Unrepentant, he broke his bread into smaller pieces.

"Tell me about your workshop then. Not the official things."

"I haven't had much time for private tinkering. Only the odd clockwork piece here and there." He set down the mangled bread and studied his soup with practiced interest. "I spend too much time second guessing myself."

"My Ambrose?" She tilted her head to one side. "You were never one to doubt before."

"Things have changed." He paused, considering his words carefully before continuing. "D.G. told me about a man named Alfred Nobel. He invented a powerful explosive for the use of construction. Impressed by its power, military minds set to using it for war and it killed more people then any weapon preceding it. When he passed away, Nobel willed his fortune to a variety of prizes for scientists out of guilt."

"You cannot think..."

"I don't think, I know. My work nearly destroyed the O.Z. and everything I had worked so hard to protect. Creations, no matter how benign their intentions, were twisted to foul purposes." His fingers reached up to his scar and the Queen looked away. "My own holoprojector, a pet project...I invented it for the girls, do you remember?"

"They loved it. The scenery loops put them to bed every night when they were young."

"And they used it to torture Wyatt and Jeb...probably countless others."

"How could you have known? You cannot blame yourselves for the twisted minds and actions of others."

"Can't I?" He felt his scalp grow irritated, but did not cease his motions. "I must take some responsibility. I can no longer sit and dream and create without any notion of consequence."

"Caution is wise until it imprisons us in our own minds." She reached across the table, touching the end of his sleeve. "You have helped many people. Not only with your creations, but your wisdom and clear thought in times of trouble. Now we are at peace and you are free to turn your attention to a hundred things."

"Peace seems very far away, sometimes."

She moved around the table and sat beside him.

"You are my closest friend, did you know that?"

"You may have mentioned it a time or two."

"In all the time we have been friends, you have given me more good advice then anyone deserves. Every time I've had the wit to listen to it, great things have come of it. So just this once, I want to give you some advice."

"The Queen advising her advisor? The whole world has gone mad." He grinned dryly at her, letting his hand drop finally though his scar looked red and irritated.

"Trust in your instincts and follow your heart. You have always been a creature of the mind. Your time living without that showed you a whole world you could not have dreamed. It shows tremendously and I quite like the man you are becoming. Trust Wyatt too. Between both your minds and tremendously good hearts, I don't think you'll be the next Alfred Nobel."

"Huh." A soft laugh escaped him. "I think you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now, I'll just have the cook send in dessert. I know even in this state you cannot refuse a good pudding."

"Evil temptress!"

"Letch!"

"Hag!"

They fell into laughter and Ambrose allowed himself to be distracted, if only for a few moments, by a truly excellent pudding.

~*~

Tied to a chair and faced by three angry and very powerful people, Tip realized that he had made a very poor choice indeed.

"I will ask you one last time: who do you work for?" The man was holding a gun. Decorated with flowers, the gun itself wasn't particularly menacing. The man holding it looked like an avenging angel. That was very menacing indeed.

"I cannot...cannot tell you."

"Oh, well in that case we'll just let you go!" The younger woman gave him a bright smile.

"Really?"

"Great. He's a moron to boot." She lashed out at kicked him, hard, in the calf, like his little sister used to when she was in a temper.

"Listen closely, boy." The man leaned down until they were nose to nose. Hot breath poured into his nose and mouth. "You will tell me who you work for, why they were after Azkadelliah and whatever you know about their long term plans or I will make you wish you had never left your mother's womb."

"Azkadelliah..." He looked wildly over to the other woman. She had been silent the entire time, staring at him not with anger or hurt, but a cautious disdain. Like a cat surveying a rancid smelling mouse. "I am in so much trouble."

"You weren't after her?" The man looked surprised.

"I was supposed to kill someone named Jeb Cain. It took me two months to track him down. Never even had a picture. I figured that... I could just, you know, take someone close to him and that would call it even." He groaned. "I am dead meat. Please, mister, could you kill me?"

"Me?" Jeb took a step back and tossed a look to Azkadelliah. Her face was tight and scared at the thought. "Who would want me?"

"If I talk, will you kill me?" Pleaded Tip. "A quick good death."

"If you tell us everything that we want to know, I will put you into a local goal under a different name to rot until the last day of the world."

"Chance of probation for good behavior?" He pleaded.

"Chance of me not blowing off your kneecap if you don't tell me what I want to know."

The gun tilted slightly and there was a telltale click.

"My name is Tip. I'm a part of the Order of the Closed Eye. We have been charged to kill all those who betrayed the true queen, Azkadelliah. All those who aided in her fall are our sworn enemies and those that turned their backs on her when the new regime began perish under our blades." The speech was said at the beginning of every meeting and even under his current situation, he rattled it off without a problem.

"And who decides this? Who speaks on the behalf of a darkness they cannot comprehend?"

He hadn't seen her move and now his queen's nails dug painfully into his shoulder.

"Mistress Karida."

"Kari?" The hand fell away. "She lives?"

"Yes...your majesty. And if she knew that I had tried to kill you...my death would be ugly and swift."

"What happened to her?"

"After the failure of the eclipse, she was smuggled from the castle by an old friend. They traveled together until they reached the foothills of the Weary Mountains. Her friend caught a chill and died there. For nearly a year, she lived in solitude. When her grief had become a hard knot of anger she journeyed forth to raise her army. Now, she is poised to reclaim the kingdom in your name."

"She must know that I am alive! Does she think to consult me?"

Tip blushed darkly and turned from her.

"You are the Unawakened. That's why we are the Order of the Closed Eye. She wants to find you when her work is done and reawaken your true spirit. Then you can rule as you were intended to." Already, he could see that this was not a line of reasoning that made anyone there particularly pleased. The woman who had kicked him in the shins looked like someone had socked her in the gut for a change.

"My father needs to know about this as quickly as possible. Tip, these murders....why now?" Jeb reached for a pen. They really need to install a quicker line of communication to the city now that they had power.

"They're initiations. A rite of passage. And a warning to all that might oppose the return of the true queen." He shrugged. "Mistress Karida sets us all on initiation trials. For the betrayers, she calls ahead and tells them that she's sending an emissary. They all know her. The rebels, we take out on our own. Its a lot more prestigious to do it on your own."

Jeb scribbled furiously at a page, trying to cram everything onto the page as quickly as possible.

"Take my hand, I think I know a way to get to there faster then the mail." D.G. reached out and Azkadelliah clasped her rough fingers tightly. Right above Tip's head, the eerie white glow of their combined magic writhed over their skin and burst into a riot of color.

~*~

The photos were burned into his retinas, but he stared anyway looking for anything that would give him a clue as to what was going on. An odd flickering got his attention and turned upwards just in time to see the gaslight go out and then blaze to unnaturally bright life.

"Hi Cain."

"D.G.! What are you doing?"

"Astral projecting. No time to explain. The murders that you've been working on aren't the work of one person. We captured an assassin here last night and he claims to be a part of larger group. The killings are a warning that they're order is coming."

"Is everyone all right? How did he find you?"

"We're all right. Shaken up some, but physically ok. He was looking for Jeb. They want to kill off anyone who opposed or betrayed the rule of the Witch. They're escalating their attacks and soon their army will march on Central City."

"That's not possible, we would have heard something..."

The light flickered and he heard a distant sound of conversation, his son's voice growing more demanding then a sudden slap. D.G.'s voice returned, slightly thinner then before.

"They were hiding out in one of the Witch's refuges. Apparently the taint of dark magic kept anyone from looking too closely." She paused and then faded back in. "This is hard to maintain, I'll get information to you as we can. Please, watch your back. You're exactly the kind of person they're targeting and a really big feather is some junior cult member's cap."

Before he could reply, the light faded again returning to its normal harshness. His eyes took a moment to adjust, his mind already racing far ahead. If he was the kind of target they were aiming for...well they wouldn't go for the Chief of Police in his own building. They liked to go into people's homes or in dark alleys. Or in a private suite of a castle that was accessible to someone determined enough.

He was on his feet before he could fully think things through and out the door before the first person thought to stop him.

~*~

The night fell all too swiftly. Tip was tied firmly to a bedstead and left to his own thoughts. D.G. shared out dinner and they huddled around the stove, each deep in their own thoughts. Unasked questions thickened the air. Finally. Azkadelliah drew in long, shuddering breath.

"I thought she had died. Wyatt...he gave me a list on third day after. Asked me to check over all the names of the men and women taken prisoner. They were all there, the military leaders, the scientists and most of my personal attendants. When Kari's name was missing....I just assumed the worst."

Jeb leaned forward, resting a knee on her thigh.

"Who was she, love?"

"My friend." She laid her hand over his. "My only friend aside from the mobats. Her official title was Head of Household. She kept things running smoothly for all the servants, even the scientists. Food never lacked for anyone while she was around. She wasn't much older then me...sometimes at night we would sit and talk together. It was when I felt the most in control of my own body."

"She sounds...nice." D.G. offered hesitantly.

"She was...not many nice people lasted around me then. But Kari had a hard edge to her and kept her own council. I never dreamed that she had it in her to whip up some kind of army." Tears started to fall. "I trusted her with a lot of information. All those people....the ones they're murdering were advisors. I told her all about their problems and scandals. She could easily bully her way in. All the paperwork about the rebels...everything."

"It's not your fault." D.G. reached over to wipe away a tear. "You needed a friend. Everyone does."

"I should hate her for doing this. Making me feel this way. But...there's a sick loyalty to it, you know? A bizarre flattery."

Neither Jeb nor D.G. could come up with a response.

~*~

Dashing headlong through the corridors, Wyatt nearly crashed into a few walls. Guards and servants watched his heedless progress with a mutter of interest. A quiet man, most of them had learned long ago to keep their noses out of his business and his suite. Master Ambrose was by far the more pleasant of the two though even he grew territorial over their shared space.

None of them dared to call out to him or ask the reason for his haste. Instead, they moved out of his way and into a fury of gossip.

The door burst open and Wyatt dashed to laboratory. The whole way from the station he had not allowed himself to think of the possibilities. It was too dangerous to even imagine the fate that might have befallen his companion. Now, he came upon the laboratory door and found it already open. Horror spilled over him as he pushed it aside. Ambrose never left the door open.

"What in the Insane Godling's Eye are you doing?"

A choking half-sob, half-sigh of relief caught in his throat. With what sense and energy remained in him, he walked the few feet to where Ambrose sat bent over a fine bit of metal work and sank to his knees. Relieved beyond words, he put his head down on one muscular thigh.

"I thought...you were dead. There are assassins coming..."

"Oh. You mean him." Wyatt lifted his head and for the first time noticed the room's other occupant. In his panicked haze, he had missed the unconscious man trussed up like a turkey on the floor. "Do have a little faith in my ability to defend myself."

"Next time I think you're in mortal danger, I promise to take that into consideration." He stood and walked over to the green clad man. "Why didn't you call the guard to come and get him?"

"He interrupted me at a very important stage in my work. I was going to get them as soon as I had finished with it." He joined Wyatt, standing over their captive. "Since it appears I will get no peace this afternoon, would you care to tell me what's going on?"

"Damned if I know. D.G. started talking through the gas light in my ceiling and told me that the murders weren't one person's revenge. It was a whole order of some kind. They followed the Witch and they want to take out everyone that would stand in place of her return."

"Through the gas light?"

"Ass-something projecting, she said. Focus on the important parts here, sweetheart."

Ambrose lifted his eyebrows fractionally. It dawned on him just how scared Wyatt must have been. The other man had started trembling with excess energy and fear..

"Come on. He's not going anywhere and you look like you could use a meal with bed following." Gently, he led him away and into the comforts of their home.

"We must tell the Queen, rally the troupes and get someone out to Jeb's land. They aren't safe there any more. I need to take my men off the investigation and put them onto security detail. There's got to be dozens of high ranking resistance fighters left in the city that don't know what's about to hit them. Not to mention sending out at least three teams of scouts to find out just how extensive this order is and what we can do to stop them before they become a problem."

"Sit, eat. I'll start writing letters." He pushed Wyatt into a chair, set bread, cheese and flagon of wine in front of him. "That's an order soldier."

Wyatt ate. Ambrose wrote. When the last crumb was gone and the last sheet sent off, they both curled up in their large bed and slept for a long time.

~*~

"I promised her, Jeb. I promised her that she wouldn't have to go back to the city." D.G. handed him back the letter. "It's too hard for her there, too many reminders."

"And there's too much danger here. If an idiot like Tip managed to find us, this Kari could track us down in no time. We've no defenses nor enough eyes to look out for her." He shook the papers slightly in her direction. "You had no business making promises that you couldn't keep."

"I can too keep it!" She realized that she sounded about five years old and tried to push away her continued wariness of her sister's strange suitor. "Look, going back to the city will only jeopardize her more. Everyone knows everyone there and nothing stays a secret. What if we went back to the summer castle? It's rebuilt and you couldn't ask for a safer haven."

~*~

"We should all go." Ambrose tossed the letter in front of the Queen. "This battle has been fought on Karida's terms up until now. Wyatt can generate a list of the most endangered citizens and they will come with us."

"The rest of the city will riot! Think about what you're saying. We cannot take the entire ruling class away for an unspecified amount of time during a time of crisis."

"Ah, but I do believe that summer is nearly upon us your majesty. Wouldn't it be reassuring if for the first time since the beginning of her Second Reign, the Queen traveled to her summer palace? If you'll remember, the Travel Guild has been begging us to start our summer traditions again so that other will follow the royal example?"

"And we simply do not inform the populace that entire army may be heading this way to conquer the city?"

"They don't want the city, majesty. They want to destroy all those who stood in the path of the 'true' queen. If we march with pomp and circumstance to the summer palace...well with the right amount of speed , they won't be able to gain on us until we're well fortified.' He waved a hand in the direction of the city. "If we announce a war, now, the whole of Central City will panic. Better to try and take care of things away and if we should fail, leave plans in place to set into motion."

"I had hoped our first summer back would be a joyous occasion." She sighed, than nodded. "See it through. We'll leave as soon as possible. Oh and tell the Travel Guild that the crown has done this for them. Might as well leave them feeling like they owe us something."

"You're getting craftier in your old age you majesty." He winked and left to go about his business.

"And you're more careful. It's quite becoming." She smiled and tucked the letter away.

~*~

The council room of the summer castle was not nearly as foreboding as the marble fortress of the winter palace. Windows filled two walls, setting the glossy wood furniture shining. The table was oval and the chairs comfortable enough to allow for a slight nap after a meeting.

No one at the table looked relaxed. Even Ambrose, chair half off the ground and hand trailing the floor held all the lazy tension of a tiger waiting to strike.

"Her order is four hundred strong." The queen set down the report her spies had given her. "They have stationed themselves in the foothills of the woods. Right now, they wait for Karida's signal to begin a siege."

"We can take four hundred." D.G. looked around the table. "With our magic and the ton and half of soldiers we brought with us. I mean, couldn't we?"

"Heavy losses on both sides if things come to that point, daughter. And we are still not sure of her strength beyond what she has brought with her. She has been planning this assault for two years, we must imagine she has some tricks up her sleeve."

"What about an ambush?" His hat pulled far down to protect his eyes from the sun, Wyatt took on a sinister aspect.

"No." Raw, coming recently to them for solidarity, spoke up for the first time since his arrival. "No more pain. No more blood."

"We're going to war, buddy." Wyatt reminded him. "Be hard to avoid the blood."

"He's right." Azkadelliah stood and walked over to the window. "There's been enough death over me. These men and women...they're deluded, but not evil. Karida...if I could only speak with her again."

"Brilliant!"

Everyone turned to stare at Ambrose and he stared back defiantly.

"What's brilliant?" Jeb stared suspiciously at him.

"I don't want to see anyone else dead either. There are different ways of fighting. Underhanded, but less violent ways." He stared at Azkadelliah. Light spilled through the window, casting a nimbus around her dark hair. "This time, dove, you get to play the savior."

~*~

"I don't want you to do this."

Sitting together on the swing and staring out into the lake, the couple sat suspended their thighs touching.

"I cannot do anything less. This is my chance, Jeb. To redeem myself a little." She lay her head on his shoulder. "Every day we spend together, I feel guilty. Like I'm cheating somehow."

"You're repenting for someone else's sins. Ever since I first saw you, released, you were so kind, so soft. After the torture you went through for years, you could still smile, still lend a helping hand to anyone who needed it. When you ask me why, that is my answer."

"That's what I was afraid of hearing." She didn't move, didn't want this moment to slide away. Potentially their last happy time together. "It was and wasn't me, Jeb. I was in there, just like you and your father were trapped in those suits. But it was still me. I could move and talk. I could have stopped it. My love...in the end, how can I explain? I wanted the world to end. Just so the endless struggle for control would cease."

"You...were suicidal?"

"I was then. I was for months that followed. There's a sadness in me that may never dim. A guilt that may weigh forever on my heart. I can't guarantee you a happy future." She glanced up at him. "You may come to hate me."

"Never, my love, never could I hate you." He drew her impossibly closer at kissed the top of her head. "If you have to do this to lay to rest some ghosts, then I will learn to live with it. And when you return safely to me, you will see what kind of life we will have together."

~*~

Sweat drenched, panting for breath and fingers curled into the sheets, Ambrose alternately cursed and cajoled his companion. Face blank with concentration; Wyatt pumped into the thrashing body beneath him twice more before shuddering and falling forward onto his elbows.

A careless hand pushed the hair out from his eyes and drew him to rest. Their breath slowed and synchronized to a steady rhythm. Finally, Wyatt rolled off taking Ambrose with him and tangling their legs together.

"When this is over." Wyatt said softly. "I'm going to take you on a vacation."

"Won't you get bored?" His tone was mocking, slightly wounded.

"I'd welcome boredom." He kissed Ambrose's sweaty forehead. "Maybe somewhere near the ocean. We can swim, eat seafood."

"You don't like seafood."

"I like the idea of you swimming."

"I'm afraid. For you." The admission surprised both of them.

"It won't be any more dangerous then my average day at work. I could get killed then too."

"It's different then. That's a choice you make, every day. This...it's my plan, my idea. If you died...I don't think I could take another death on my hands and certainly not yours."

Wyatt kissed him.

"I can't promise you not to die. But I won't do anything stupid."

The snort was not much of a vote of confidence. To Wyatt's protests, his partner got out of bed and padded over to his work table. Everything was still in boxes and nothing felt homey about their new space. It was too light, too airy and far too open to the world with its big windows and generous open archways between rooms.

"You're going to work now? Don't I get a little last night leeway?"

"Shut up." Ambrose settled back next to him, taking his hand in his. "I made you something."

"Oh?"

"The good thing. I've been working on it...well it's not quite done, but I don't want you leaving without it." A cool strip of metal pressed into his palm. He raised it to his eyes and examined it in the fading sunlight.

A thick steel watch gleamed in his hand. A latched cover neatly hid the face from sight The cover was particularly intriguing. The intricate etching depicted a human heart. Crisply rendered arteries and aorta lay in stark relief against the ventricles. Examining it even more minutely, he picked out an oddity.

"It's got a strange..."

"Mass? It's a peculiarity of my people. It secretes a chemical that allows us to live in suspended animation for a short period of time."

"Oh...Oh!" Looking up, he felt caught in the warm brown eyes staring into his. "This is your heart."

"Mother always did say I wore it on my sleeve. Now you can wear it tucked under yours." He looked nervous, waiting for rejection.

Wyatt slid the watch around his wrist and snapped the closure tightly. Drawing close, he pressed their foreheads together.

"It's late in coming...maybe too late." He sighed softly. "But I do love you."

"The body is like a machine." The reply was so quiet, the Wyatt had to strain to hear it all. "The heart is it's most tender mechanism. Mine was never quite right, always in need of repair or attention. Somehow over the years, you healed it and set it beating it right. You've got me, Wyatt Cain. Mind, body and soul. Best be careful with the whole shebang.'

"S'pretty speech. Except for the shebang part."

"I knew I shouldn't have adlibbed."

They laughed, the solemnity of the moment broken. Nothing, really, had changed. They had both belonged one to the other for a long time. Saying it only gave them the reassurance they would need in the coming weeks.

Still, the next morning as he slipped from the room, leaving Ambrose sleeping, Wyatt double checked the latch on the watch and cinched it lovingly to his wrist.

~*~

They two sat astride one horse, she settled in front of him. It was strange to feel her in his arms, this alien girl that had stolen his son's heart yet looked like the women that had killed his wife. She smelled like the woods they rode through, earthy and somehow old.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Do I have a choice?"

He thought over the question as they road over the rough landscape, taking care for the horse's sake as well as their own.

"Not one that you could live with." Tightening his arm around her briefly in the best equivalent of a hug he could offer, he whispered into her ear. "We know that you love this woman. We know that you love Jeb. We know you fear yourself. But take it me, you only know you have a good heart when you can feel it breaking."

And they could both hear the quiet ticking of the watch, tying them to the one's who counted the seconds until they returned safely home.


End file.
